If life brings you lemons, suck on this

Auntie Roger is back from her summer break, refreshed, vivacious and full of life changing advice for readers. When life brings you lemons, Auntie is on hand with the gin. Sit back and indulge yourself, sip from Auntie’s bountiful fondant of love and knowledge. If you have a life issue, write to Auntie for discreet advice, knowing she treats everyone’s private issues with the strictest confidence, only sharing with the 140,000 people in The Weekend Sun’s circulation area.

Dear Auntie Roger,
How do you know there’s a drummer at the door? Guitarman.

Dear Guitarman,
The knocking gets louder and faster.
Auntie.

Dear Auntie Roger,
We are having such a lovely time at the party, but some of us want to leave. We said we’d go, but now that it’s time to go, I just don’t know. How can we appear to go without going? Would it be rude to say “we're going” but not actually? And how do we get home? Phillip has offered to take us in his Range Rover but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, especially since I've heard them call it the ‘Over Rover’. Is that a bad sign? How do we make a dignified exit without actually exiting? Can we have our cake and eat it, too? Theresa.

Dear Theresa,
Relax. Help is on the way. We’ve sent Jacinda over to sort you out. She’s an expert at losing while winning at the same time.
Auntie.

Dear Auntie Roger,
My wife loves my generosity. She was so proud when I told her how much I give to Charity each month. Big Spender, Avenues.

Dear BS,
Do you think she’ll still impressed when she finds out Charity is a lap dancer at Showgirls nightclub?
Auntie.

Dear Auntie Roger,
I’m 97 and love to drive myself everywhere in my Range Rover. Lately I’ve noticed a bit of a shimmy in the steering at about 175 km/h – also, it has a tendency to get airborne then the tyres squeal annoyingly when the Rover lands, after negotiating those pesky roundabouts. There’s a decidedly nasty rattle from the back end, especially when i drive over small hatchbacks. It’s a devil of a job picking the bicycle parts from off the front grille.
Do you have any suggestions for making my driving experience a bit smoother? Perhaps the public should stay off my roads while I’m trying to enjoy my travel?
Philip, Balmoral.

Dear Philip,
You sound like a diabolical old petrol head and you’ve made a right royal botch of your driving. You should audition for the next movie sequel, Smash Palace. Or the next Fast and Furious: The Duke’s A Hazard. Ever thought of getting one of your minion staff to drive you? It’s not like you can’t afford it.
Auntie.

Dear Pete,
There’s no escape from the music in the whole damn street.
Auntie.

Dear Auntie Roger,
I live in Omokoroa and work in Tauranga, but it takes me so long to get home along State Highway 2 that I have forgotten what my house looks like. How will I know when I’m home? Do you think my family misses me? Hapless Commuter.

Dear Hapless,
Don’t worry. Your family have forgotten what you look like, since you spend so much of your life crawling at peak hour. I suggest you live in your car. It’s very fashionable.
Auntie.

Dear Auntie Roger,
What did our parents do in the evenings to avoid boredom, in the days before television and the internet?
Pondering, Papamoa.

Dear Auntie Roger,
Please settle this argument at my workplace: Which was the most ground-breaking invention, the shovel or the spade?
Digger.

Dear Digger,
Take your pick.
Auntie.

Dear Auntie Roger,
School goes back next week but I don't want to go back. I don't like it there. You can’t make me and I'm going to lock myself in the bathroom ‘til the term is over.
Defiant, Otumoetai.

Dear Defiant,
You have to go back to school, you’re a teacher.
Auntie.